


Trinity church

by Chocolate_Cigars_and_root_beer



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, I'm Sorry, Kinda, Still, Thanks, not really - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2016-11-07
Packaged: 2018-08-29 14:54:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8494237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chocolate_Cigars_and_root_beer/pseuds/Chocolate_Cigars_and_root_beer
Summary: Here's what I do instead of ELA assignments. P.s it was inspired by a fic that I cant find.... I need to either way heres sad liza!





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Umm here's my first fic are you proud?

She had no reason to come back. But yet she found herself at the rusting gate 'trinity church' a sign read. She pushed open the squeaking gate to find some of the paint had rubbed off on her hand. The grave yard didn't seem like a place to burry your dead at least not in the winter a white powder covered the grass and the lone tree in the corner had lost its leafs. She sighed as she walked to the most familiar grave one she had visited with Alexander and once he was gone with Angelica she brushed the snow off to read the simple inscription "Phillip Hamilton  
January 22, 1782, November 24, 1801." She held back tears he was only 19 he wanted to work in government just like his father. She gave a small smile remembering his small poems he'd write, her hands covering his while playing the piano, and the counting oh the counting he'd always change the melody while counting. The grim image of her son lying on a table as Alex held him up reassuring him, she held his hand as they both counted his eyes rolled back once getting to seven. She couldn't bare this thought and ran to the second most familiar Angelica's the inscription did not read her name and yet shouted her sister as loud as it could. She laughed slightly remembering the ball where she danced around to each man, it was there where she met her Alexander. She shed a tear thinking about how much Angelica had sacrificed so she could be with the love of her life so she could be with her beautiful children so could be happy. The name "Hercules Mulligan" one read she laughed through tears thinking of the large man sitting uncomfortable at their wedding. But as she thought of Hercules the large slick white marble stone stole her attention "Has erected this  
In Testimony of their Respect  
FOR  
The PATRIOT of incorruptible INTEGRITY  
The SOLDIER of approved VALOR  
The STATESMAN of consummate WISDOM  
Whose TALENTS and VIRTUES will be admired  
Long after this MARBLE shall have mouldered into  
DUST  
He died July 12th 1804 Aged 47" the words were familiar to her tongue though it left a bitter taste in her mouth she walked over and sat stroking the smooth marble then the memories fled in Dancing at the ball. The war, the revolution, their marriage. He worked too much, worked until his fingers practically bled. The late nights, his trips, the distance. His outbursts. Her children the spitting image of him. The affair, her burning of the letters, her regret after. Philip Philip, her son. The election. The night she begged him to come back to sleep.The duel with Burr, her husband gone. His letter "Best of wives and best of women" he wrote. Her desperation to have his legacy live on, Angelica's sharp wit, Phillip's dark brown curls, her Alexander's eyes the one she had seen in so many children in the orphanage the look of desperation and hunger. She wept as she felt the callused hand stroke her back the one she had held at the ball the one she felt on her face and her shoulder so many times, the hand the held her's at his funeral, the hand belonged to her dear Alexander.  
"My dear Betsey" he spoke.

**Author's Note:**

> P.s.s I am loving what you did with your hair today!


End file.
